


no accounting for taste

by vegarin



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, overwrought teen angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegarin/pseuds/vegarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one said being a teenage boy in a post-apocalyptic world was going to be easy.  A twd_kinkmeme fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no accounting for taste

**Author's Note:**

> For the following prompt at LJ twd_kinkmeme:
> 
>  _Years into the future, Daryl and Glenn are… well, it's not like they go around declaring their relationship or anything but everyone knows that they mean more to each other than anyone else. They are just close, always together you know. (The group may be aware or doesn't have a clue that they are romantically involved.)_
> 
>  _Carl sort of develops a crush on Glenn throughout the years. He is the one that plays soccer with him, teaches him chess and tells him stories. Glenn's always around to comfort him when time gets hard. So who can blame him for paying a little more attention to the one person he's most attached to other then his family. It's just an innocent crush._
> 
>  _Would love to see Carl has a sudden realization and finally recognizes the signs for the things they are all these years between Daryl and Glenn._

 

The world, Carl Grimes decides, is a fucking unfair place.

That's probably what Dale would call an understatement, but admitting that isn't going to make Carl hate the world any less or the list of his mile-long chores any shorter, so Carl kicks at the chopping block instead of properly utilizing it to chop wood like he's supposed to, in an attempt to let out some steam.

It doesn't work, because the chopping block doesn't even have a sliver of decency to tilt, or move, or show any hint whatsoever that Carl's kicked it with all his strength.

He glares balefully at it.

It glares back at him, primly, in gloating silence.

 _That's it_ , he thinks, and flings away the ax he's been holding. Except, of course it flies directly into the haphazardly stacked piles of firewood inside the barn, and the piles immediately collapse, illustrating a perfect example of the domino effect.

Carl stares at his foot, and then at a piece of wood that's rolled up to his side, for the longest moment that he can stand.  And then he throws his hands in the air and sinks on the chopping block, because he really wouldn't mind being the next in line on it.

No one's going to come around to look even after that loud ruckus. Everyone's been giving him a wide berth this week, either thinking he's going to throw yet another temper tantrum or not even noticing that he's in a piss-poor mood. He's ready to wager it's the latter, except a few minutes later, the barn door creaks open and Glenn's walking in.

 _Should've figured_ , thinks Carl.  Because Glenn, unlike anyone else, always notices.

"Hey," says Glenn. He pauses to inspect the mess Carl's made, with an amused look on his face. "Okay, so Sophia not talking to you again?"

Carl makes a face and then almost blurts out, _Like I care at all about what she does or doesn't do_ , but bites down the petulant words just before they roll out of his tongue.  Okay, so she isn't actually talking to him right now, but that's really not the point here.

Glenn studies him for a moment before sitting down next to him. "Not Sophia, then," he concludes correctly. "This about your dad?" he asks, quieter now.

Carl moodily kicks at the dirt, not wanting to have this conversation at all. But Glenn's at his side, waiting patiently, and as always it's supremely difficult not to spill his guts when Glenn's looking at him with that earnest, worried look on his face.

"They were supposed to be back four days ago," Carl says eventually, a lot more sulkily than he's intended.

"You know they'll be back," Glenn answers immediately, like he's expected this. "They always have."

Yeah, they always have, but what if this is going to be that one time they won't? The fact they've always come back doesn't actually work as a guarantee that this time would be the same, does it? And it's not as if Glenn doesn't know this, either; Carl knows him well enough to tell when Glenn's trying to hide his worries. Glenn stayed behind this time only because he hurt his arm on their last run, _and_ because Daryl threatened to shackle Glenn to the bed and throw away the keys if Glenn kept insisting on coming along.

"Carl," says Glenn, and his eyes are kind. "They'll be back, safe and sound, before you know it.  Just trust me on this, okay? Have I ever failed you in anything, like, ever?"

"No," Carl admits, kind of grumpily, but it's true. Glenn's never lied to him; more to the point, he's incredibly lousy at it, which is one of many things that Carl likes about him.

And _that_ , actually, may just be the heart of the problem. When he feels Glenn's reassuring hand on his back, Carl's chest gets all tight and his heart skips a beat.

Glenn has really nice hands. They're long and warm and not rough at all, and when he ruffles Carl's hair affectionately like he always does, Carl's heart has, as of late, taken to fluttering like it doesn't quite know how to beat _right_ anymore.

Carl swallows hard, because this— _this_ is also contributing to the unfairness of the world. Besides the fact that they, all of them, have always been one big family, Glenn's also been an honorary member of the Grimes family, and they all still think Carl's the baby of the family—even after Angelica's born, so how's _that_ fair?—so Glenn's never gonna think of him as anything _but_ his younger brother.

And then there's the fact that he's pretty sure Glenn is only into girls. He vaguely remembers Maggie, how they almost went their separate ways years ago because Glenn wanted to stay behind with her. He and Daryl had this epic fight over it which is now almost legendary, and Carl was sure those two were never going to speak to each other again. But then when Glenn came back two months later without a word of explanation as to what happened, Daryl poured him a drink and they drank together—well, Daryl drank and Glenn mostly coughed over his drink—and that was pretty much that.

Daryl's out there right now, with Dad and everyone else, and given how tight Glenn is with Daryl, Glenn must be worried sick, too.

And here's Carl, being a total baby about it again.

"You gonna be okay?" Glenn asks gently.

And this time, Carl lets out a long breath. "Yeah, I guess."

Glenn smiles at him then, and Carl's heart flutters again.

 _Crap_ , thinks Carl.

  
*

  
Carl's first ever kiss was with Sophia. Her lips on his felt so soft and she had been smiling all the way through, so it probably would've turned out okay if he hadn't promptly fallen flat on his face afterward.  He couldn't look at her in the eye for the entire week and _then_ she got so mad at him for some reason that she didn't speak to him for over a _month_.

After that, there was Tommy, who was sort of hot and interesting but also kind of an asshole (which, in retrospect, was half the attraction), so maybe it was a good thing they split with Tommy's group early on. And then there was also Jane, who had a long dark hair and a pretty smile and who really liked Carl but was quite clingy, too. And both times Sophia immediately found out, as she always does, and made fun of him ruthlessly, because Sophia's always so, so, _Sophia_.

When he told Dad about how Sophia just bothers him on some level he couldn't explain—and honestly, he's sorry for her, 'cause how's she ever gonna find a guy who likes her back with that kind of personality?—Dad, with a look on his face that told Carl he was trying really hard not to laugh, said, "Well, there's really no accountin' for taste, is there?"  And when Carl, very reasonably, pointed out he wasn't helping matters at all, Dad coughed and said—

 _Dad._

Carl swallows a lump in his throat and distracts himself by thinking about Glenn's hands some more. That one summer night when Glenn set up a makeshift basketball stand and taught him how to shoot hoops—now, that was an awesome night, even if it got ruined a bit from a surprise attack by the Walkers at the end, but that's par for the course, so remembering how Glenn taught him to dribble does the trick for a while and brings back fuzzy, funny feelings back to Carl's chest.

That is, until he recalls how Dad and T-Dog and Daryl joined them in the middle of it and then the whole game became more of a wrestling match than basketball, and how at one point Dad was laughing so hard that—

Carl broodingly kicks over the unsuspecting garbage can standing harmlessly at his side.

Ten seconds later, he picks up the spilled trash and puts it back into the can again.

  
*

  
"I really don't know what's gotten into him lately." His mom sighs. "When we try to talk to him about what's bothering him, he bites our heads off, every time."

 _Great_ , Carl groans to himself. His luck would have it that the first thing he gets to eavesdrop on is a conversation about him. He and Sophia—back when she was still talking to him, that is—found this chute that runs along the side of their base compound. It's a bit tight, but it's still big enough to accommodate two people sitting down, and it's particularly made even more awesome by the fact that, inside the chute, anyone can safely eavesdrop on the conversations taking place in the large boardroom that only adults get to use for their daily meeting. When the people in the room are positioned at the right angle, Carl can even see what they're doing, all completely unobserved.

He hasn't made use of it until now, what with Sophia being mad at him for no reason he can figure out, but of course the first thing he gets to hear is his mom and Glenn discussing _him_.

"He's a teenage boy, Lori," says Glenn, understandingly. "I remember battling with raging hormones every day and then wallowing in angst every night because pretty girls wouldn't spare me a glance. I mean, I could tell you _stories_ that would keep you up at night."

"Right," says Mom. Carl can't see them clearly from where they're standing, but he can hear laughter in her voice. "Thanks for that, because you're really making me feel _so much better._ "

"Hey, if it helps, I'll keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Thanks, Glenn. Really, you're a lifesaver." And now there's no mistaking relief in Mom's voice, and Carl feels a tiny bit guilty at that.

"It's Carl—there's no need to thank me, you know that."

 _Well, isn't this just fantastic_ , thinks Carl, all very moodily. At least their talk on him ends there, and they move onto a more serious topic, one that Carl's been desperate to listen in on.

"Maybe they decided to take I-75 instead, which could be why it's taking them longer," says Glenn, examining the map spread out on the table. "I don't like it, though. That route hasn't been terribly safe since a group of Walkers started to migrate a couple of months ago. Seriously, this mystery vaccine of theirs would better be worth it."

 _Right_ , Carl remembers then. The vaccination to stop the further spread of the virus, something the army thinks they've perfected. It's given them hope a number of times before it failed like clockwork.  And this may be why they're taking longer than usual on this supply run, because they have to pick up the vaccines from Atlanta.

"You think it's going to work this time?" asks Mom.

Carl can sort of make out Glenn shrugging at her. "Maybe, or maybe not. Even if it doesn't work, we can't afford to miss out on its distribution. What I don't get," Glenn says, with a frustrated sigh, "is why the armies can't deign to make the deliveries themselves. I know they're spread thin, but so are we, and asking us to make this trip every single time is just unreasonable. If I could just—"

"Glenn," says Mom, sounding alarmed.

"I hate this," Glenn says, like he hasn't already made the point abundantly clear. "I really, really hate this, Lori. If I could just be out there looking for them right now—"

"No, you can't, and you know that. You're hurt, Glenn."

"I told you, my arm doesn't bother me anymore."

"—and," Mom continues firmly, "you're the brains of this operation here. You know we can't risk you out there."

"Right, and it's totally okay for Rick and Daryl and Mike and Jennifer and everyone else to risk their lives out there." There's a bit of silence, and then Glenn lets out his breath. "Sorry—I'm, yeah, sorry. I know that was uncalled for. It's just, I'm not used to being the one left behind."

"I know. You're worried—we all are. Look, Glenn, it took me quite some time—longer than I'd like—to let Rick do what he does best, and believe that he'll come back every time he steps outside, but I did eventually. You will, too."

"Yeah," says Glenn, softer now. "Thanks."

"And besides, if Daryl finds out that you almost went after them by yourself, he really _will_ tie you to the bed every time he leaves the compound, and then where would that leave us? We do actually need you up and around, you know."

"He could _try_ ," says Glenn, darkly.

"Oh, could he, now?" Suddenly, Mom sounds disturbingly like Sophia, when she's teasing Carl mercilessly about something or the other. "You wanna tell me some more? Because I could definitely stand to hear some details. Actually, I think Carol and Andrea were also interested in hearing more, so maybe we should wait—"

" _Lori_ ," Glenn cuts her off, with a half-embarrassed laugh.

Before Carl can make heads or tails of this conversation (because he honestly can't, and that's why he usually has Sophia around, to decipher this sort of things), the door opens and Jeremy walks in, with T-Dog and Anna in tow.

"The water pump's down," Jeremy declares, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

"Again?" That puts a frown in Glenn's voice. "We really need to be thinking about replacing it altogether." There's some noise of paper shuffling and Glenn says, "Okay, T-Dog, you can get Tony and maybe Sue to help you with fixing it—they don't have any shift scheduled right now. I'll ask Dale to take a look at the pump schematics later and come up with a permanent solution, if there's any. And how was the perimeter check?"

"All's quiet," Anna reports. "No sign of Walkers moving in anywhere near the compound, for now."

"Glenn," T-Dog stops, and his pause is marred with uncharacteristic hesitation. "What do we do about our people out there?  How long do we wait?"

There's a longer silence this time.

"Three days," says Glenn, finally, in a tone that invites no argument. "We're giving them three more days, and then we're going after them."

There're murmurs of agreement around the table, and Carl sits back in his hiding spot, his hand on the revolver in the holster that Dad gave him years ago.

 _Three days_ , he tells himself.

  
*

 

The last thing Carl said to Dad was: _Maybe you should've just left me to die back then, if you're never gonna let me live my own life._

Carl doesn't quite remember everything about that one time when he almost died, but he can easily piece together what really happened from what people say and don't say, and how sometimes they would look at him knowingly, their thoughts so transparent—many people were willing to lay down their lives trying to save your life, so you'd better be worth all the pain.

So what if he actually wants to live up to that expectation, then?  He can't do anything about it, certainly not while his dad is so dead set against letting him come along and giving him a chance to save their lives _back_ sometimes.

But Carl really shouldn't have said, well— _that_.  He's been mad, sure, because they were supposed to take him with them this time, but Dad changed his mind at the last possible minute and said Carl couldn't possibly come along because this was really, really dangerous, and then.

And _then_ , Carl said what he really shouldn't have said and Dad stood there with his face tight and unreadable, and Daryl came to get him at that very moment because they were already late, and by the time Carl was ready to take his words back, they were both gone.

And that was almost three weeks ago.  Dad's out there, still, and if something happens, those horrible words are going to be the last thing he's ever said to his dad.

 _Shit_ , Carl thinks, and tries not to cry.

 

*

 

"Uh," Carl starts, rather eloquently, standing at the door of the garage, "I need to talk to you about something."

Carl likes to hang around in the gargage and he has, often enough, with Glenn, but this time, it's not as easy to cross the doorway.  But Glenn turns around, holding a wrench in his hand, and smiles at him.  "Hey, Carl," he perks up, "come in here for a sec."

"Um, okay," says Carl, and does as asked.  He's pretty good with engines, mostly because Dale and Daryl have been trying to get him to learn at every possible opportunity, but he's never seen the large equipment that Glenn's working on right now.

"Trying out a new pump system," explains Glenn, at Carl's questioning look.  "Checking if we can make this work instead of the old one we've got, but I can't even start disassembling the thing.  Hold the bolt there for a second, okay?  Gonna try this trick I learned."

"Which is what?"

"Turning it really hard," Glenn deadpans and places the wrench around the knob.

Carl can't possibly _not_ smile at that, so he reluctantly lets himself feel a grin on his face while he holds the bolt.

Nothing happens.

"Uh, okay, you can try turning it now," says Carl.

"I _am_ turning it," comes a sheepish reply from Glenn, a moment later.

They both stare at the knob that obviously doesn't want to move.  Glenn kicks it once, rather resentfully.  Still nothing. 

"Right," says Carl, thinking that maybe this whole kicking thing is a universal solution to all problems that have no answers, except it doesn't actually work. "Now what?"

Glenn cracks a laugh and shakes his head.  "Wow, that was like, a gigantic waste of time.  Do me a favor and never, ever share this with Daryl, okay?  He'll _never_ let me live this down."

Glenn's good mood is still infectious, and Carl almost smiles again.  That is, until he remembers why he's here.

The change in his expression must've been obvious, because Glenn instantly sobers.  "Okay, Carl, what is it?"

Carl stares at his feet for a long moment before he can gather enough courage to look up again.   "Let me come with you. You're gonna go after them, right?  I want to go, too, when you are."

Glenn looks at him quietly, and Carl wonders whether Glenn would lie to his face and tell him they've got no plan to go after his dad.  Carl thinks, rather detachedly, that he would probably lose his shit completely if he does.

But Glenn doesn't; he only steadily meets Carl's eyes.  "Let's say I'm considering the option of going out to look for them," he says, carefully composed.  "What's your plan?"

"What plan?  I wanna go with you, out there, looking for Dad and Daryl, and—"

"And leaving your mom and sister behind.  When I leave the base, I will have to take a few people with me, and likely T-Dog and Andrea will come along, too.  Which means, should anything happen, we're leaving the people here—including your mom and Angelica and Sophia and everyone else—to fend for themselves without the majority of our manpower.  Is that what you want?"

 _No_ , thinks Carl.  _No, it isn't_.

He sinks onto the chair next to Glenn and lets his head fall into his hands.  "I know.  I _know_ , but—God, this's so messed up.  What if they're out there, hurt, or—"  _Or worse?_ Carl can't bring himself to say that out loud.

"Let's have some faith," Glenn says gently.  "Your dad may be the strongest man I've ever met.  Mike, Jeffrey—all of them know how to take care of themselves.  And Daryl—"  Glenn smiles at that. "Well, you know Daryl."

"Yeah," says Carl, smiling a little, too, because, well, Daryl's Daryl, and Carl can't ever imagine even a hundred of Walkers taking Daryl down.

Glenn watches him for a moment and then drops the wrench back into the toolbox.  "Screw work," he says.  "How about you stay and keep me company?  I can teach you how to count cards during Texas Hold 'em.  Once your dad's back, we can cheat him out of rations, okay?"

Carl usually can't say no to Glenn to begin with, and he sure as hell can't say no to that kind of offer, so he doesn't. 

Glenn, smiling still, takes out a deck of playing cards from a drawer.  "I understand wanting to be one of the grown-ups.  I really do, but don't grow up too fast, okay?"  Glenn ruffles Carl's hair again.  "I'll miss hanging out with you like this.  Soon enough, you're not gonna have any time left for me at all."

"Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen," Carl says, turning away to hide the flush on his face.

For hours after, Glenn teaches him how to count cards during all variations of poker.  And they never once bring up the fact that the people they love might be lost out there and there's nothing they can do about it now.

And they wait.

  
*

  
Next day, they're back.

Just like that.

Carl's in the middle of murdering a bowl of cereal when he hears the news.  It takes a long second for him to overcome disbelief, and in another second he's running outside, and he doesn't actually stop to breathe until he gets to the front gate and sees the group of people now gathering in the courtyard.

 _Two, three, four..._ Carl starts counting automatically, an ingrained habit from the days when they always came back with one or two people short.  _Six.  Seven...and eight_.  Carl starts breathing again.  _Eight_.  All of them are back, safe.

And there is Dad standing in the middle of them, covered in dirt from head to toe and looking totally exhausted but also alive and smiling and that's all Carl's wanted, _ever_.  Carl starts to run again, calling out, " _Dad_."  And he doesn't mind his voice is cracking horribly.

Dad's lined face has the widest smile Carl's ever seen on him.  "Hey, kiddo."

Carl's entirely too old for that nickname, but he doesn't even protest because the next moment his dad has his arms around him and he's so goddamned happy.   "You okay?" Carl asks, finally emerging from the tight embrace.

"I am now," says Dad, and that's when Carl looks up to see Mom's here, too, with Angelica swinging in her arms. 

They all hug, for an embarrassingly long time, but Carl decides he can live with it, for now.

Glenn, too, comes up to them later and gives Dad a tight hug.  "Welcome back, Rick."

Dad nods at Glenn with another big smile on his face, and that apparently answers some sort of unspoken questions they must've shared, because Glenn seems to relax even more and then they're smiling at each other and gripping each other's arm again.

Carl's trying to find the right moment to ask Dad about what caused their delay when Sophia interrupts the scene—ugh, so _typical_ —by running toward them, almost in a blur-like speed, and tackling Daryl.  And Daryl immediately picks her up into a bear hug. 

"You're back!" she basically _shrieks_ at Daryl.

 _Like a really loud and irritating harpy_ , thinks Carl, trying not to roll his eyes too hard.  He's sure Sophia's been harboring this huge crush on Daryl for years, ever since she went missing that one time and Daryl found her and then brought her back, because she's all about Daryl, what with _Daryl this_ and _Daryl that_ all the freakin' time.  Though, every time Carl tries to call her out on it, she vehemently denies it.  That last time, she rolled her eyes at him and said, "Daryl's right—boys _are_ stupid."  Whatever _that_ means.

"Hey, girly girl," says Daryl, planting a quick kiss on top of Sophia's head, and she beams like it's the greatest thing ever, until her eyes stray to his arm, and then to his face again.

"Daryl," she says, the glow on her face suddenly gone, "are you hurt?"

Then, Carl sees it, too.  There's this deep gash on Daryl's temple. And then another one on his left arm.  They seem to have been patched up, but there's no mistaking the faint lines of blood seeping through the bandages.

Glenn grows all quiet and his lips turn into the straightest line Carl's ever seen. "What happened?"

"This ain't nothin'," Daryl starts to say, trying to brush them off, but Glenn isn't even looking at Daryl.

"What did he do to himself?" Glenn asks Dad, flatly.

Daryl's face shifts a little to house this odd sort of a pleading, panicky look that Carl can't for the life of him ever recall seeing on his face before.

Dad looks sidelong at Daryl, and then at Glenn.  "I could've sworn I said once that I'd never be gettin' between the two of you," says Dad. "I'm sure I did.  In fact, I actually remember tellin' both of you that, at this very spot, I'd never be participatin' in any family dispute."

"Well, that ain't hardly fair," drawls Daryl. "We got involved in _your_ family disputes plenty."

"Yes, that shows who's really the wise one here, doesn't it?" Dad shoots back, grinning.

"And you are indeed a very wise man, Rick Grimes," says Mom, with a twinkle in her eye that Carl secretly adores.

"Someone better tell me what happened, right now," Glenn interrupts, in the flattest tone possible, "or I'm not responsible for what I might do in the next two minutes."

"We got swarmed by a group of Walkers near the border," Mike answers, very quickly, "and Daryl pulled some crazy shit, as usual, and saved our collective ass.  Again, as per usual."

Daryl glares at Mike, looking vaguely betrayed, but Mike only shrugs while wearing a shit-eating grin on his face.  "Heya, Daryl, thanks for saving my life and all, but really?  Glenn scares me shits more than you do."

Watching the murderous look on Glenn's face, Carl finds himself silently agreeing with Mike.

Carl can't care too much about any of that, though, not right this second, so he burrows into his dad's chest once more and breathes again.

  
*

  
This time Carl intends to hear every single word of the debriefing, so he crawls into the chute early on and waits.  But no one shows up for quite some time, so he dozes off a couple of times.  The third time he wakes up, he begins to think maybe the meeting's gonna take place at Dad's office instead because sometimes they do that.

So Carl's about to crawl back out when the door to the boardroom flings open and Glenn and Daryl walk through it.

"Doc fixed me up already," says Daryl, slowly closing the door behind him.  "So you got no reason to—"

"Shut up and sit down," Glenn snaps.

To Carl's eternal surprise, Daryl does as he's told, no scoffing, no complaint.

Carl figures out why only when Glenn turns around again.  Glenn's almost shaking, pale-faced, as he brings out the first aid kit and lays it out on the table.

"Would you quit motherin'?" Daryl says, and though the words themselves express annoyance, there isn't much heat behind them.  "'Said I was fine."

Glenn bangs one of the medicine bottles down so hard on the table that it rattles.  "This— _this_ is you being fine?" Glenn asks, lifting Daryl's injured arm.  "You're not supposed to pull stupid shit like this anymore.   Remember making that promise?  You even _remember_ that you've got something to live for now?"

The thing is, Glenn rarely gets mad, which is yet another thing Carl likes about him, but now, he's as mad as Carl's ever seen him.

"Fuck," Glenn says, startling Carl a little bit because he's practically never heard Glenn swear, either.  Glenn runs a hand down his face.  "Forget it.  You're gonna do whatever you're gonna do, every time and no exception, so why do I even bother?"

Daryl looks at Glenn silently, his expression shadowed.  Carl's never been really good at reading Daryl (once again, he laments the lack of a certain girl named Sophia at his side), so he can never tell what the man is thinking at any given moment, but this time is even worse, because this Daryl—well, Carl's not sure if he's seen Daryl like this before.

"Fine, then," says Glenn, without looking up.  He quietly assembles the first aid kit again and turns around to place it back into the cabinet.  "You're fine." 

And that's when Daryl gets up and follows after him.  "No, I ain't," says Daryl, reaching out with his hand. 

Then he turns Glenn around with a hand around Glenn's neck and pulls him into a kiss.

Carl can _literally_ feel his own mouth hanging open.

The kiss is rough and hot and super uncomfortably long ( _Isn't oxygen_ , Carl wonders, _some kind of a requirement for, like, living?_ ).  And, there're actual tongues involved, which is a completely new territory for Carl.

And then Daryl presses Glenn up against the wall, and Glenn lets him. 

"Been thinkin' about this every night," Daryl murmurs into Glenn's hair, and actually lifts him off the floor with his arms around Glenn's waist. "have you spread out, just like this, and takin' you 'til you can't stand on your two legs no more.  So, no, I ain't _fine_."

"Shit, don't tempt me."  Glenn gasps, like he doesn't have enough air, and then rests his forehead on Daryl's chest.  "We have the debriefing, remember?  Like, _right now_?"

"We don't gotta be there," says Daryl, and if Carl didn't know any better, he would say Daryl's downright _pouting_.

"Oh hell, yeah, you gotta," says T-Dog, suddenly poking his head in through the door.  "You two about ready to wrap up?" he asks, one eyebrow way up. "'Cause Rick's callin' for a meeting in his office, and you're both kinda required."

Daryl groans a little, but he puts Glenn down anyway.

Glenn presses his palm on Daryl's chest and says in a low voice, "We're not done here."

Daryl's wearing an amused grin that looks a little too lecherous than Carl's comfortable with.  "Didn't think we were."

"Talking, Daryl.  We're not done _talking_."

"That, too," Daryl agrees easily. He pulls Glenn close with his arm around Glenn's shoulders and lets out a deep sigh.  "Let's go, then.  Duty calls."

"What's wrong with your bedroom, man?" T-Dog gripes at them as they begin to walk out together. "You got yourselves a nice big bed in there.  Couldn't you just use that?"

"Huh," Glenn says to T-Dog, "I think that makes you the only person who wants us to use the bed exclusively.  I mean, Lori expressed explicit interest in details of our lurid sex life."

" _What_?" Daryl croaks out from the hallway.  Thankfully ( _or not_ ), they're still talking loud enough for Carl to make out the words.

"Say no more," says T-Dog. "I _really_ don't wanna know."

"Apparently, Andrea and Carol want to watch, too," Glenn adds thoughtfully.

"Hey now, what did I _just_ say about too much information?"

Then, there's a sudden, loud crash, which Carl figures is likely caused by someone knocking into one of the cabinets.  And there's a long, drawn out silence.

"Wait, Daryl, are you _blushing_?" Glenn asks.

Carl sits tightly inside the chute, without breathing even once, until the laughter echoing in the hallway fades and silence reigns once more.

And Carl thinks to himself: _Holy shit_. 

And then, once again in capital letters: _HOLY SHIT_.

"Please don't tell me you didn't know," says a voice, at his ear.

Carl jumps about six feet into the air before he comes down to earth again.  When he turns around, he sees Sophia's crawled in and sitting behind him, staring at him like he's a total idiot.

"Oh my God, you really didn't," says Sophia, before he can even attempt to deny it.  "They've been together, like, forever.  _Seriously_ , how could you not know?"

How indeed, because, when Carl actually thinks about it, it makes so much sense.  Still.  "Hey, they never said.  Or showed.  So how was I supposed to know they were _together_ -together, and not just _together_?" he pauses there, thinking maybe he should stop before digging a hole for himself any deeper, for once.  "Hey, how come _you_ know?"

"Because I'm way smarter than you," she says, smugly.

He can't really argue with that, but then again— "Wait, does _everybody_ know?"

Sophia gives him a pitying look.  "It's a good thing you have me around to tell you about things.  Really, how do you ever function without me?"

That should've probably offended Carl, except it's also kind of true.

"So, hey," she says, playing with the hem of her skirt for a bit, and then kind of looking away a little. "Are you okay now?  I know you were worried about your dad and...stuff."

Her sudden shyness tugs at Carl's heart in odd and possibly new ways.  "Um. Yeah, I think so," he says, kind of stammering.  And he figures it's not a lie, after all.  Dad's back, Daryl's back, and like Glenn's promised, everyone's fine, so all is right with the world.  Sort of.  "Sorry about, you know, before.  I was just—"

"Frustrated that you can't help and worried that they weren't back yet.  Yeah, I get it," she says, almost softly, and Carl thinks maybe if anyone does get it, it would be Sophia.  "I know you want to be out there with them so you can help, but sometimes, being the person they can come home to—I think that's what really saves them sometimes, you know?  Having something, someone, to return to makes them try harder to come back."

Carl remembers Dad's face when he saw Carl at the courtyard, how it just lit up.

 _Oh_ , thinks Carl.

"It's not such a bad thing, then, is it?" says Sophia.

"Yeah," Carl admits, "I guess not."

He watches Sophia tuck her stray hair behind her ear, and feels his heart quicken again.  _Get a grip_ , he tells his heart.  _And possibly make up your mind, because, really, what the hell._

But that thought is wiped completely when Sophia smiles at him.  "And hey, guess what?  Daryl brought stuff back for me, and Mom says I can use some of the batteries for anything I want.  So, what do you wanna do?"

Carl thinks for a moment. While he doesn't know what he wants to do with the batteries, he _does_ know what he wants to do right now, so he reaches out, hesitantly, and laces their hands together. 

When she smiles at him like Dad did at the courtyard, Carl knows it was the right thing to do.

Okay, so maybe he doesn't hate the world _quite_ as much as he used to.

For now, anyway.

 

 

 **END**


End file.
